Not Spoken but Heard
by ForciblySilent
Summary: Her story might not be happy, the road might be hard, but can Julia find joy?
1. Chapter 1

**The first chapter to Julia's story... **

**Geez, this is kinda sad... :P **

**Enjoy, folks! Julia belongs to ME. **

I am visiting my sister in the hospital at the time. My sister, Vanessa, who is older than me by five years, has been sick for as long as I can remember. The doctors said she suffers from a "terminal illness", which basically means that she is always sick, and there is no cure. As we've grown up, her sickness has only gotten worse and worse.

Vanessa is the only person I can talk to. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't get better. To make matters worse, these past few months, she's been in the hospital, unable to even move due to the illness. I can't help but worry about her. I love her. She can't die.

We're talking. I don't know how my sister does it—how she's so bright and cheerful. How many times have I sat by her and burst into tears, to have _her _comfort _me_? Vanessa promises she'll be ok. She really is just incredible. "Julia?" She asks me suddenly. Her voice is so much weaker than it was just yesterday, and another stab of fear slices into my heart. I look up at her and smile. "Yes, Vanny?" She smiles fondly at the nickname. "Will you sing for me?" She coughs weakly into a handkerchief, then immediately goes to move it away. Still, she can't hide the sight of the blood that's stained it. "You have such a beautiful voice.." I smile at her, and immediately comply, singing one of her favorite songs. She smiles and closes her eyes, simply listening to me.

And then she breaks into a coughing fit. Immediately I stop singing and move to try to help her somehow, but she waves me off with a hand bloodied from her coughs. "No, no… keep sing…ing.." She chokes out in between coughs. I sit back and comply. I owe her this much, right?

She keeps coughing. Every now and again, there's a small break, but then she starts coughing again. Every time, blood comes out. I keep singing for her, though. It's like she's expecting something to happen. What's going on? I feel confused, and so scared.

Then, all of a sudden, she stops coughing. The breaths she takes are slow and rattling, like something off of a horror film. It's even scarier than the coughing, but the scariest part is the heart monitor she's hooked up to. Because her heartbeat keeps slowing down. As I continue singing, I press a button that's supposed to call in the doctors, tears quickly filling my eyes.

By some miracle, the doctors let me stay in there while they try, in a mad, frenzied way, to restore her heartbeat to normal. I just hold Vanessa's hand, crying my eyes out and singing desperately, as though my voice could somehow save her.

And then, the heart monitor lets out a low, flat, continuous _beeeeep_. Vanessa's hand goes slack in mine. Her eyes dim and the doctors pull a sheet over her, covering even her sweet face. My sister is dead. She's only 12 years old! This isn't fair! Only old people die, right?

The doctors and nurses bring me into the office behind the front desk. Most know me from all the times I've visited Vanessa—too many to count—and they are kind and comforting. After all, my tear-streaked face answers any unasked questions.

I sit there and start to study my alchemy again. Vanessa and I were going to become state alchemists when we grew up—she promised. I look through the stuff I've already memorized, because the familiarity is comforting.

Time ticks by. Soon, it's long after closing hours. Only a couple of nurses and I are there, waiting for my parents. Finally, _finally_, they show up, five hours after my sister's death.

I can't say that I completely blame them. I mean, they're doctors, so they have a very busy schedule. It just feels sometimes like they could, or at least could have, spent a little more family time with me and Vanessa, is all.

There's no tears or comforting hug when my parents show up, of course. They're very _professional_. They talk together quietly, already preparing for Vanessa's funeral—as though it's a stranger's! I mean, I know they must be used to death, but this is just crazy.

It's then that I realize that I need Vanessa back. And I know just how to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I actually am REALLY sorry for how short this turned out... **

**P: I'll try to make the rest of the chapters a bit longer... I'm not good at writing long chapters... *sweatdrops*  
**

Human transmutation. It's a forbidden art, and yet I'm sure that I could pull it off. Couldn't I? The theories I've developed so far are pretty solid. It's been two years since my sister died, and I feel pretty confident about what I've come up with. But I'm just nine years old. What if I can't really do this?

No. I can't let myself have those thoughts, not now. Not after how far I've gotten. I can do this, and no one can stop me. I know I can. I just have to keep going. I'll do it this afternoon, just like I've been planning for months.

As I sit in class, I doodle in a notebook, making a few last-minute adjustments to the transmutation circle I'll be using soon. I improve the design. It ought to work… It has to.

The day passes by oh-so-slowly. Then, I'm ready for the transmutation. I don't have any kind of lab or anything, so I decide to do it in the living room. It's not like it'll matter—soon my sister will be back and I won't have to worry about anything anymore. She'll help me out. I'm sure.

I draw the circle carefully, making sure it's perfect. It's extremely complex, and every line has to be perfect. Then, I put a large pile of mush in the circle's center. This "mush" is actually the chemical make-up of most girls her age. I add some of my own blood, and then I am ready. I activate the circle.

At first it seems to be working. Hope fills me—I'll get to see my sister again!—and then everything goes wrong, horribly, terribly wrong. Red sparks appear, and these weird shadowy hands grab me, pulling me into the circle—I scream in terror.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mmmm still shorter than I wanted... **

**Ah, Julia Julia Julia... Cry for her! MWAHAHAHAHAHA  
**

I wake suddenly. My arm—oh god, my arm BURNS. I look to it, and it's not there! I feel like I'm going to throw up as I look at the stump, bleeding its heart out. I start to cry and I look over at the pile from earlier—did it work? Is Vanessa back?

The smoke clears, and hope fills me. Surely, surely it worked!

My eyes widen as I see the sight before me. What is that thing? _Vanessa. Vanny, no! _It looks demented, sickening, WRONG. It's pulsating slightly—terrifyingly. It's like a person, twisted inside out, its organs and innards all on the outside. I tremble, and my mouth opens to scream.

No sound emits my mouth. I try again to scream, but… I can't. I can't speak. I cry as I stare at what was supposed to be my sister, but is a monster. I try to stand up, but blood loss has made me dizzy, and I fall back to the ground.

I can only look and try my hardest not to look at this monster, this freak, that I've created, as I wait for my parents to come home. My vision is fuzzy and I hold my right hand to my stump, what used to be my left arm, in a pathetic attempt to slow the bleeding. I hate the feeling of my open flesh against my fingers. It's gross.

I don't even know how long I wait. I can't tell anymore. I just know that it's horrible. I'm laying there bleeding, surrounded by the stench of fear and failure. I'm pathetic. I couldn't save my sister, and I can't save myself now. _Am I going to bleed to death? _I think groggily, and I can't help but want to laugh. _What a way to go… _

And then?

Then the door swings open. My mother and father walk in. At first, they're just talking to each other. They don't notice me. Then they turn and look inside. I look up at them, tears in my eyes, as my mother screams. "What the hell's going on?!" My dad yells. I just stare at him. Spots are appearing in my vision. I readjust my grip on my stump, and my mother notices. "She's lost her arm!" She yells. It doesn't sound like she's concerned… her voice is one of shock and curiosity.

I don't know when it happens, or even how, but the next time I'm waking up, I'm in a hospital. My arm's been bandaged properly, and even though I'm still drowsy, I feel better. Again I try to speak. Nothing comes out. _Why can't I say anything? Did that weird figure… Truth… take my voice? How? What's going on? Why didn't it work? _I have so many questions, and I just feel pathetic… I can't even ask them.

I couldn't ever speak to my sister again. And now… I can never speak to anyone again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wooh I made it long! :D **

**Soooo... here you go. :P Enjoy Julia's attempts. :D  
**

I am in the hospital. I can't forget… I can never stop thinking about what happened. What I did. I created a monster. All I wanted was to see Vanessa again…to talk and laugh with her, to sing to her again. That's all. I didn't ever think… I never thought one mistake would lead to this. I'm such an idiot.

As toll for my mistake, I have lost my left arm, and my voice. The doctors are scrambling to find out what happened. They create theories to my missing arm, and blame shock for me not speaking. As though I'm for some reason choosing _not _to speak.

They ask me questions, trying to get me to speak up. They ask me if I'm ok. If I want anything. What happened. I'm supposed to explain to them, but I can't. I can never explain.

Eventually, they perform some test on my body or something where they check my insides. My vocal chords have not been damaged in any way. They're simply gone, as though someone reached into me and pulled them away. As though they were never there in the first place. Finally, my parents understand my silence.

After a while, I'm sent home. I go and that's all there is to it. My parents go back to work, day after day, always getting home sometime between 11 pm and midnight and leaving at 5. I barely see them—it's nothing unusual. In fact, I see them more now, then before. I don't mind. I can take care of myself, even if I've lost my arm. I don't blame them—they're very busy.

After a few months, my parents decide I'm healthy enough and ready for automail. They call an engineer they've never met before, and designate a day for him to come over. They won't be there, so it'll be my job to greet him and give him a check that my parents have already written out. It's a lot of money, and they're sure it'll be enough for him.

So I sit and wait. While I wait for this engineer to show up, I go around the house, cleaning as well as I can. It keeps me busy; gives me something to do. I'd rather be busy than feel useless. Being one-armed makes things difficult, but I have to remind myself that it's not impossible. Nothing is. Except bringing people back from the dead.

And then there's a knock on the door. I answer, and a rough-looking man walks in. He's got a shaggy grey beard and beady rat's eyes. He looks around the room as he sets a toolbox on the coffee table. Finally he turns to me, and says, "So who's supposed to be getting my automail service?" His voice is as rough as his looks, and he stares at me almost unnervingly. I can't help but blush, feeling shy, as I point to myself with my thumb.

His lips droop into a stern frown. "You?" I nod. "But you're so puny and weak! There's no way a little runt like you could support automail!" He says, his voice loud and irritated. My blush deepens. _Is that true? I mean, I knew I wasn't strong… but am I really that weak? _I stare at him with wide eyes as he continues to rant. "Naturally I of all people would be given a little wimp to work on! Of all the ridiculous ideas… Putting automail on a little girl, HA!"

The man takes measurements of my right arm, all the while muttering to himself in that crazed way. He can't seem to believe that he's working on a "midget" like me. It's humiliating, but I can't stop him. What could I do? My punches are weak, and I can't speak up.

Then he leaves, casting me one last disgusted look.

I hate being mute. I hate this. It's all my fault, but still—I hate it. I wish I'd never made that mistake. I should have believed what the papers and journals and books all said. Human transmutation is impossible. I never should have tried it. I wish I could go back. Instead I tried to create my sister, and I ruined her. And now? Now I'm apparently too weak to even be able to have automail. How stupid of me.

-o-o-o-o-

The man calls my parents. He first seems very angry, and my mom can barely get a word in. He keeps ranting about how ridiculous it is that they set him up for a little girl. How he came all the way from Rush Valley, and he can't believe that they wasted his time. He tells them that they need to wait a couple of years. "At least until she's sixteen. I'm sure that by then she should be strong enough. She's much too small now." He seems perfectly at ease with insulting me. My parents agree that perhaps that would be the proper solution. I feel so hurt—they're going to make me stay this way LONGER? I can't so much as sign the way I am now… what am I supposed to do? I'm hopeless! I can't take this! I can't.

So I decide to leave. Rush Valley is full of people with expertise on automail—surely there'll be someone there who'll consent to work for a little girl. I'm only 10, but I'm sure that I'll be able to get someone to help me. Surely they wouldn't all refuse? Would they?

I leave. I take some money, and food. I don't mind that I'll be working on my own. At least I'll be active, and not lying around the house feeling useless. Besides, when you're alone, there's no one you have to talk to—or not talk to.

I set out on my own, in hopes of getting automail. I'm sure that it can't be that hard. That things won't be so bad. I'm confident.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok... So basically, Julia's life SUCKS. So... Maybe I should up the rating... if you think so lemme know. **

**Hm... I feel really guilty right now... I'm just gonna go sit in my emo corner now...**

**See you... **

After the few first weeks, it's instantly revealed to me just how wrong I was. This is going to be hard. Honestly, I start to feel scared. My food dwindles down and I worry a lot. Being mute is a real pain. I have yet to get even close to Rush Valley—I haven't even reached Central yet. I start to worry that I'll never make it. I can't get living quarters at all; no one seems to understand me, which I understand. With one arm, I can't sign, and with no voice, I can't speak. So how could they?

Food is attainable; I go to a restaurant, and point out what I want. But that only works for one meal and I don't have a limitless amount of money. And with no way of gaining more money, I'm constantly at risk. It's kind of scary. What if I can't do this?

Of course, I'm not one to give in. So I keep travelling. I keep moving on.

I go through town after town. No one really seems to notice me. I'm quiet and disappear easily into the shadows. No one has time to spend on someone who doesn't talk. Occasionally I notice people looking at me, but that's about it. No one ever says anything. No one ever does anything.

I don't mind. I think it's better that they just ignore me. This way, it's easier to keep moving. I'm never tempted to stop. I don't want to give up. I can't quit now. I absolutely refuse.

Finally, I make it to Central. It's a lot busier here than the smaller towns I've been seeing. I feel nervous.

I meet someone else who lives on the streets. She's nice to me; shows me how to find food and get money. She teaches me other things, too, things I'm not proud of—like picking pockets and locks. Even though I refuse to do it now, she says eventually I might. And then I'll be glad I know. I don't think so. But I let her teach me. She's so nice, even though I never talk or anything.

We sleep in the same alley, because it's easier to survive when there's many of you. We're hidden by a dumpster, and I never bother to think we might get found. It seems ridiculous. But we do. I'm asleep at the time, but their laughter wakes me up. It's not the kind of laughter that gives you a warm feeling, but dark, sinister chuckles. I open my eyes and stare at my surroundings warily. My friend is surrounded by four tall, dangerous-looking men. My eyes widen.

They laugh again as one bends down so that he and she are eye level—and she's sitting with her back pressed against the wall and knees pressed to her chest. He grins. "My, you're a precious one, aren't you? So pretty…" He pushes a strand of hair that's fallen forward behind her ear, and the others chuckle. _Oh, my god… what's going on? Who is this guy? _I think, feeling terrified.

My friend shudders and says in a trembling voice, "L-leave me alone." The men roar with laughter at this. "Oh, and what's a little girly like you gonna do about it?" The one leaning down sneers. "I- I'll call the police!" There's only more laughter as he grins broadly. "I'm sorry, but I doubt they'll listen to you.." He smirks. "Now, let's see what you look like when you take off those grungy clothes." He tugs at her shirt.

That's when something in me snaps. I run at him, trying to stop him. I've grabbed onto him with my one arm and am tugging… when another grabs me by my hair and slams me backwards. I collide with the wall, and fall down. My vision blurs slightly and I pick myself up. Something wet trickles down the back of my neck and I know I've hit my head pretty badly. This doesn't stop me from running up again, trying to stop him.

I have to stop him.

Again I'm knocked backwards. My vision starts to go fuzzy. My friend starts to scream as the man manages to pull off her shirt, revealing a black bra. I stumble forward and they growl. "Again?!" I'm kicked back. My head hits the wall a third time, and I fall. The last thing I see before my vision darkens, is the man pulling off my friend's bra. I think, _I couldn't stop him. _And then, everything goes dark.

-o-o-o-o-

I wake suddenly the next morning, and my head is pounding. I put my hand to it and it comes back sticky. I grimace and start to use the blood on my hand to draw a transmutation circle. I activate it, and heal my injury. Then I look to where my friend usually sleeps.

She's completely naked, and her eyes are wide open, though they seem glazed over. She's surrounded by a pool of blood, and there's an obvious stab wound in between her breasts. She's dead. The memories of the night before come back to me, and I open my mouth in a silent scream, staring at her. I can't believe it. It's impossible! Those bastards, how could they! Tears fill my eyes and I walk towards her. She was so young, and so nice. She shouldn't be dead! How could they!

I pick up her discarded clothes, and dress her. It's not like it really matters, but it feels indecent to leave her like this; naked and laying in the streets. I dress her, and then I drag her to the police station. It's difficult—I don't have much strength, and I can't carry her with only one arm—but somehow I get her there. I set her on the doorstep and walk away, wiping a few stray tears away.

That day I leave Central for good.

I can only hope that the police find those bastards. I pray for my friend, as I continue on to Rush Valley. I'm almost there, and despite my persistent hunger, I'm now determined more than ever. I'll get automail. For her.


	6. Chapter 6

**FINALLY, things start to get better. I swear, towards the end, it really does. **

**Yeah, keep in mind, it's been 3 years now that Julia's been on the streets. She's extremely malnourished, and hasn't had a proper bath for quite some time. Remember that while reading. :P and enjoy. **

It takes forever to get to Rush Valley. Traveling on foot is harder than it looks. I'm just relieved to be here—finally, after all this time, I've made it. All the world can't stop me now. I long to eat something, having gone a while without food, but that's ok. I can always find food later. I search around, and see all the automail shops. Suddenly I feel scared—the people they're servicing are big, strong men. I don't see any thirteen year old girls like me. Maybe I was wrong about this. Maybe it is impossible for me to get automail. All I know is suddenly I'm terrified of going up to anyone. Because if they say no, it'll ruin the dream. I came, and now I can't go on with it.

I find an alley to sleep in for the night. It's quiet and secluded. And that night, I sleep well.

The next day, I try again to make myself go up to someone. What would they care that my dress is ratty and torn from the years in the streets? Would they care that my face is streaked with dirt? What about the fact that I'm mute? Would they mind? Would they refuse to help me? I don't want to hear the word no. I don't. I can't. It would ruin everything. Everything I've worked so hard for. I can't hear them say no.

I guess I'm just silly. I mean, there must be a way for me to get automail. I might be young, but I'm not that weak. Still, even when telling myself this, I can't make myself move forward. I can't do it. So I hide in my little alley. No one even notices me. I find some old rags and use them as a blanket. When night comes, I try to sleep.

It isn't long before I feel a sharp pain in my side—someone's kicked me. It hurts. I open my eyes and immediately my heart drops. _I should have gone for automail earlier. _I'm surrounded by a semicircle of men. They're bigger and there's more of them than there were when my friend died. Suddenly I'm sure that I will die. This is it. I feel tears in my eyes. _I'm such an idiot. _They grin broadly, and the guy who's obviously the pack leader or whatever smirks at me. "Aren't you a sexy little creature." I feel my cheeks flush brightly, and the men roar with laughter. "Yeah, bet she'd make a good fuck." One of the other men says, and they laugh again as the heated color in my cheeks rises. I try to back up, and my back hits a wall. I want to scream or run or SOMETHING, but I can't. I'm mute, and blocked by a thick mass of muscled men. I'm so terrified. What have I gotten myself into? "Hey, girly, wanna come sleep at my house? I'll give you some food." I look up, foolishly letting myself feel hopeful. He must recognize the look on my face, because he grins nastily. "It'll cost yah, though."

Suddenly something small and hard hits him in the head. "GET AWAY FROM HER!" A voice bellows. I turn to see a guy… he can't be over sixteen or seventeen. I sink deeper into my ragged blankets, and the men turn to him.

There's a nasty sneer on the man's face. "Oh, look, it's the Central brat." He says to the amusement of his thugs. "What's the matter, kid? Yah miss your daddy?" The men surrounding me laugh, and I wonder what I'm missing out on. "Shut up." The teenager says, his voice shaking slightly.

"Or what, you'll go running to daddy dearest?" More laughter. "I SAID SHUT UP, YOU MORONIC FAT-ASS THUG!" The teenager snaps. Everything freezes and I feel the air tense up. "D-did he just call me fat.." The man mutters, before his face becomes a mask of rage. In one swift move, he's pinned the teenager to the wall across from me. I freeze, staring, frozen in fear. "So I hear you've got an interest in bioorganic alchemy." The man says, pulling out a sharp knife. My heart almost stops. _Has he had that this whole time? _I remember the stab wound in my friend's chest, and I start to cry—I almost miss what he's saying. "Let me take an interest… I'll start by ripping out your throat!"

I don't know who this guy is, but I don't want to see him die. I struggle to get up, but the thug's friends kick me down. I grimace as a kick hits my stump—god, that hurts—and then I sit still. They grin and watch the fight.

The teenager grimaces and claps his hands, touching the man's arm, the one pinning him against the wall. Cracks appear on his skin and suddenly the arm explodes, deconstructed. Blood, and flesh, and muscles go everywhere. I can feel it on my face, and I'm grateful that the blanket is covering most of my body. Tears fill my eyes. _I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead._ I shake uncontrollably—terrified. "YOU SICK MONSTER! YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Even though I know he's yelling, in my fear the thug seems miles away. All I can really hear is my heart thundering in my ears. The thugs run off, lead by the man who now, like me, has only on arm. And the teenager starts walking towards me. Oh god.

I hide under my blankets, covering even my face, only my fingers peeking out, and that's to hold the blanket in place. I hear the teenager sigh. "C'mon, I'm not going to hurt you." He taps the blankets close to my hand, but not quite on it, and I slowly, nervously lower the blankets, allowing my face to show. His green eyes meet my brown ones, and he smiles. "My name is Dante. Are you ok?" I feel the blush creeping back onto my cheeks, as I want to respond, but can't. I move my hand to my throat and shake my head, and he seems to understand. He smiles in a friendly manner. "C'mon. Let's get you something to eat." He offers me his hand. _I'm so dead. _I take his hand, and he pulls me into a standing position. I haven't eaten in a while, and my body trembles from the exertion of holding itself up. He gapes, his eyes sliding from my face to the stump where my left arm should be. "What happened to your arm?" He asks, then remembers that I can't answer him. He takes in my shaking figure, and sighs, picking me up and holding me bridal style. I blush nervously—_he's going to kill me_—and he sighs. "I'm going to take you to my place, get you automail and something to eat…" He says, and carries me off. And I really do let myself hope. Because I really need some automail.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, ok, so I'm giving you a break now. Happy? **

**Yeah, Dante and Jack belong to Knight-Trol. :P He's writing his own story, and it's got my oc's, so go check it out! :'D **

I guess Dante must look at my stump while he's walking at some point, because he takes a deep breath and asks me, "Have you seen the Truth?" _Is this a test? Will he lose his temper? _I worry silently. Still, what can I do? I nod slowly, and he sighs. "It's not too much farther to my place. Oh yeah, and you'll meet Jack and Mr. Hallows. They're great people, though," he chuckles, "Mr. hallows can be a bit scary." _Someone who scares _this _man? _I think, and shake a bit. _I'm so dead. _

He moves on, and soon we arrive at an automail shop. _What are we doing here? I thought he was taking me to a house. _I think nervously, staring at all the wrenches and pliers and other mechanical tools. Dante barely pauses though, heading into a back room and from there up some stairs. Then, the situation is clear to me. Because on the second floor is living quarters; a parlor. I'm set on the couch. I immediately feel anxious. If it'd been a one-floor house, I could run out if something went wrong. But I doubt I'd be able to make it down stairs in my state. "Jack!" Dante's call startles me, as I don't see it coming.

A guy comes downstairs. His hair is light blue while Dante's is obsidian, and the eye not covered by his bangs is a bright sapphire color. "What is it? You sound upse_whyyy _is there a girl on the couch?" His tone changes as he notices me. I feel my cheeks flushing. "And what the hell happened to her? She looks a mess!"

_Do I really look that bad? _My cheeks are burning and I try to sink further into the couch cushions. They're so soft—I haven't felt anything like it in ages. Dante sighs. "She was on the streets. Some guys were going to—"

"I don't need to know!" Jack interrupts, his cheeks flushing. He looks at me. "Poor girl… what's your name?" I feel my cheeks heating up in embarrassment as Dante quickly explains, "She can't speak. She's seen _it_." At first, Jack looks confused, then comprehension dawns on his face. "Oh, you mean…" Dante nods. "Yeah." I stare at the two, trying to suppress my growing hysteria. They're just discussing me, and I have no idea what they're thinking. I'm so dead.

And then the door slams open. A tall, broad-shouldered man, older both than Jack and Dante, walks in. _Oh, god, there's another one?! _I panic. The man looks at Dante and scowls. "I see you're back. Where's those automail parts I asked for?" Dante blinks. "What? Oh! Oh, sorry, Mr. Hallows. I uh, kinda got sidetracked." He rubs the back of his neck nervously, glancing over at me. I pale and try to bury myself in the couch cushions again as Mr. Hallows notices me as well. "Who the hell is this?" His tone is blunt. _Oh god he's going to kill me. Or worse, send me back out. _I think nervously. I don't want to leave the comfort of the room. I haven't been this comfortable in ages, even with the fear running through me.

"I dunno her name, really." Dante tries to explain. When Mr. Hallows opens his mouth to interrupt, Dante purges on. "But, Mr. Hallows, she needs us! I mean, she was in some real trouble!" Jack has his input. "Please, Dad?" Mr. Hallows stares at me, taking in my filthy, malnourished figure. Tense seconds tick by, the atmosphere growing so intense that I almost can't take it. Then, finally, Mr. Hallows sighs. "Fine. But you two are responsible for fitting her with automail!" He points a stern finger. "I'm not having anyone in my house missing any limbs!"

I stare. _I'm getting a home… _and _automail? _The idea seems unimaginable. Has my luck really improved so quickly? I'm astonished. That much is undeniable.

Dante and Jack break into twin smiles, as Jack nods emphatically. "You got it, Dad."


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok, to clear up any confusion. Anything BOLD, is sign language. Anything **_italicized_**, is thoughts. :3 **

**Luff yous all! **

They're kind to me. They really are. I still feel apprehensive, but in the last month I've had so much help. They've been so nice. It makes me feel more and more comfortable.

On that first night that Dante brought me in, I slept in a bed for the first time in three years. I'd forgotten how good it felt. I don't want to go back to the streets. No. It's more than that. I can't go back. Not now.

Now, it's been a month. Nothing bad has happened, and I've begun to trust the men who've been so kind to me. And finally, I've grown healthy enough for automail.

"Are you ready?" Jack looks at me kindly. He's installing my port; hooking it up to my nerves. This will be very painful—he's warned me. This is what my first engineer told me I couldn't handle. I'm scared. But I can't say no. I can't back down, not after all I went through. I nod. He connects the port to my nerves.

Instantly, a searing pain fills me. I open my mouth in a silent scream, my one fist clenching the cloth to my dress. The pain courses through my body like a hot knife, bringing tears to my eyes. It's like nothing I've ever experienced, and I long for it to stop.

A few hours later, I am sitting in the parlor, my new left automail arm attached. It's new feeling. I keep opening and closing the metal fist. It's hard at first; I can't feel the metal for obvious reasons; but it's not impossible. That's all that matters. I smile softly. I've done it.

I can speak now.

Dante walks into the room. "Hey, girl." He smiles kindly and I give him a clumsy wave, using my automail. He breaks into a grin. "Jack told me it went well. He's a genius, isn't he?" I nod and he sits next to me. "Yeah, he and his dad made this for me." He pulls up his left pants leg a few inches, revealing metal plating. I stare at the automail, and Dante laughs nervously. "I've been meaning to tell you… I've seen it too." _It? What does he mean? _I look up at him, and then it dawns on me. I remember reading a book about sign language a while ago, and I carefully sign the word, **Truth**?

Dante surprises me by lifting up his hands and signing back. **Yes. I tried to bring back my dad, and lost my left leg in the process. **I guess I must look shocked, because Dante gives a little laugh. "Since I met you, I've been practicing sign language. I'm still a little shaky, but—" He doesn't get any further, because at this point I've hugged him.

They really are kind. I'm just some mute mute girl they took in, yet they're treating me like family I owe them so much for this.

I haven't seen anyone this kind since my sister died.


End file.
